This post is a love letter to transient congregations like the one I serve now and to we've-always-done-it-this-way congregations like many we've known.
The first congregation I served my first five years out of seminary is 207 years old and in a community where people have lived for generations. Like clockwork, there was A Certain Way of Doing Things:
- On Labor Day Weekend we sold burgers and fries at the county fair, and Sunday worship was held in a circus tent with the Catholics.
- Every Halloween, Father R. and I judged the costumes at the community parade down Main Street - and could expect small bribes from parents wanting their young fairy princesses and draculas to win.
- Every month, I moderated every meeting and led every Bible study because I was one of the few who had been to college, much less seminary and people figured the pastor must know best.
- Every summer, I would go to the Volunteer Firefighters' Banquet and eat wild game, alternating pre-dinner prayer duties with Father R.
And so it went. There were annual turkey dinners and annual Lenten studies and annual summer Bible studies on the porch of the manse where I lived. The funeral director always phoned me when someone remotely Protestant passed away with this greeting: "Guess who died?" Few things changed in the years I was with them.
I now serve a congregation that turns over in membership every couple of years. Our building is in a neighborhood surrounded by historic apartments and condos where people flock when they first come to Our Nation's Capital, often fresh out of graduate school. The majority of new people who come through our church doors are in their 20s and 30s, single or married without children, and they often move away within 5 years.
Like I said, it's very transient. Military members get transferred. Civilians decide they want a simpler lifestyle where the traffic isn't crazy and you can find a house with a yard for less than $500,000. People who decide they love living here often move to more affordable neighborhoods. Or maybe they move to even more expensive neighborhoods if their careers take off.
We rarely hear: "But we've always done it this way." Ideas are fresh and there are always new faces which keeps us on our toes in terms of hospitality. The regulars have to talk to strangers. Half the congregation are strangers.
But there's also a downside, I've realized, to such transience.
There is often chaos when someone dies, for example, over who's in charge of organizing the post-funeral plans because the new-ish parishioners are not familiar with our process. They jump in not knowing about procedures before jumping ,not because they are bossy, necessarily, but because they want to help and don't know realize that processes are in fact in place. They assume everyone is new to this.
When Advent rolls around, there is confusion over special offerings because newer members want to introduce their ideas and older members want to do what we've done previously, not realizing that the "long time tradition" they are touting is in fact only 2-3 years old.
Someone will invariably say "We should do a study on re-thinking Sunday School" when they don't realize that we already did an extensive study the year before they joined which was just 4 years ago.
Sometimes it feels like we are always re-thinking processes, re-working mission statements, re-writing job descriptions for officers and volunteers. That can be a good thing. But it also is time-consuming and emotionally tiring. And it can feel like we are going in circles, which, I'm certain makes many people frustrated.
I can see why some folks who are very committed to The Institutional Church find comfort in joining established churches with long-time customs and few changes. They know what to expect. People know their roles. Processes are in place.
The thing is that many of those customs need to be changed. Expectations need shifting. We all need to discover more faithful roles. And some of our processes are dated and perpetuate not-so-great ways of being the church.
Once again, we need both/and. We need both stability and change. We need both tradition and freshness.
We need pastors who are experts in both/and. But most of us are trained in what is "old" or what is "new" without learning how to incorporate both. [Seminary leaders: do you hear this?]
The first congregation I served is dying. They haven't had an injection of "the new" in so long, they have no idea it's possible. Few people are moving into their community, it seems. And the ones who grew up there often move away.
The congregation I now serve sometimes wonders if things are "falling apart" (the favorite expression of one former leader) because we are again re-thinking ways of being the church that were just introduced a few years ago. Do we want to re-visit 9:30 Church School? Do we want our officers to do things differently (again)? It feels chaotic.
So, here's the love letter part: if we focus on the ancient things in fresh ways I believe we'll be on the right path to be the church God wants us to be. It starts with the
most essential commandments and is topped off by many of
Paul's wisest words. We who love the church need to figure out ways to blend what is timeless with what is timely.
Painting is Bright Picture by Kandinsky (1913.)
It's been a busy couple of weeks: 3 deaths, 2 snowstorms, at least 1 angry parishioner. (Probably more than one.)
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